Goodbye, master, I must leave you
Something tells me I must go,
For you know I can't deceive you
Going wage is too darn low
Yes, you say that you will lead me
If I chop that hardwood cord
Do not to temptation lead me
I'm not toiling for my board

If I work for bread and lodging
While the sun is high and warm
It would cause me sundry dodging
Through the winter's cold and storm
I must have the all that's in it
In the labor that I sell
For you cannot tell what minute
It may start to rain like hell

One more question, boss, one only
As you count your wealth untold
Would you have me save bologna
Against the day when I am old?
Now we understand each other
As we play the game of grab
But, please do recall, "my brother"
I'm too old to be a scab